hospitality, without being much edified by the subjects of conversation, and I had soon, alas! to face the question as to what I was to get from these people.  I was given a decent room for the night, and on the following day took an early opportunity of looking round the beautifully kept precincts of the majestic castle, wondering in which part of the building there might be found room for me in case of a longer visit.  But my remarks in praise of the size of the building were met at breakfast with the assurance that it really was hardly big enough for the family, as the young Countess in particular lived in great style with her suite.  It was a cold morning in September, and we spent it out of doors.  My friend Rudi seemed to be out of humour.  I felt cold, and very soon took leave of the great man’s board with the consciousness of having rarely found myself in the company of such nice people without discovering the smallest subject in common.  This consciousness grew into a positive feeling of disgust when I was driving with several of the cavalieri to the station at Modling, for I was reduced to absolute silence during the hour’s drive, as they had literally only the one topic of conversation, by that time so terribly familiar to me!—­namely horses.

I got out at Modling to call on Ander the tenor, having invited myself for that day with the intention of going through Tristan.  It was still very early on a bright morning, and the day was gradually growing warmer.  I decided to take a walk in the lovely Bruhl before looking up Ander.  There I ordered a lunch in the garden of the beautifully situated inn, and enjoyed an extremely refreshing hour of complete solitude.  The wild birds had already ceased singing, but I shared my meal with an army of sparrows, which assumed alarming proportions.  As I fed them with bread-crumbs, they finally became so tame that they settled in swarms on the table in front of me to seize their booty.  I was reminded of the morning in the tavern with the landlord Homo in Montmorency.  Here again, after shedding many a tear, I laughed aloud, and set off to Ander’s summer residence.  Unfortunately his condition confirmed the statement that the injury to his voice was not merely an excuse; but in any case I soon saw that this helpless person could never under any circumstances be equal to the task of playing Tristan, demi-god as he was, in Vienna.  All the same I did my best, as I was there, to show him the whole of Tristan in my own interpretation of the part (which always excited me very much), after which he declared that it might have been written for him.  I had arranged for Tausig and Cornelius, whom I had again met in Vienna, to come out to Ander’s house that day, and I returned with them in the evening.